100 Colors of Shade
by Colored Shaded Dust
Summary: What if, instead of Katherine Kavanagh, Anastasia Steele caught the flu? What if Katie was able to finally interview the guy she'd been stalking for the past year? Would she be able to steel herself and steal Christian's heart in the process?


Thanks for the reviews everyone, I'm glad they were more in depth and full of constructive criticism. I made some edits and added some thoughts, I hope you like it! I should get to writing the second chapter... sometime soon.

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><p>As I do my hair in front of the mirror, I smile with glee. Even my hair is performing better than it usually is. Today is the day. The day I have been waiting for; I'm finally going to interview the most enigmatic entrepreneur in Washington State. All those months of badgering his interns paid off… I'm finally going to meet him. Wow, this is going to be AWESOME. I'm finally going to start writing the article I had planned the moment I learned that Gray has never been seen with a date. I will finally learn if he's homosexual or asexual… this is going to be so much fun. I look at myself one more time in the mirror to make sure everything is in place, not a strand loose, and go.<p>

My roommate Anastasia Steele has the flu, I guess that's what happens when you sleep with your hair wet in the middle of winter. I had hoped she would have come with me to the interview as a travel buddy, but she had succumbed to her studies. At least Ana is able to cram for her exams like she planned… I always told her to take better care of both her health and her studies, but I always failed in the end. Even the prospect of messing up her hair wasn't enough incentive to take the time to blow-dry her hair, preferring to go to bed immediately. She just doesn't seem interested in boys and thus cares little for her appearance, caring more for the fictional romantic heroes in her English books… I must admit I always hated pride and prejudice, I never understood how belittling a man was supposed to make him fall in love with you, but that's fiction for you. No, I prefer going out and meeting people instead of being alone and cooped up. I also happen to like manga and video games better than books… it's a surprise I was able to become a reporter for the university's paper event though I'm the only one who's not majoring in English. Understanding and conveying a message is important and all, but it doesn't feed people unless you happen to become a politician. Most English majors end up broke by college debts because without an add on the only job one could get is teaching, and I don't like the prospect of disrespect. Writing is good and all, but it mostly takes luck as one has to have the imagination that entertains other.

… though that's a little bit hypocritical as I plan to one day write a classic myself… I guess I always felt like the exception since I'm well, me. Doesn't everyone feel that way too? …That despite everything, you're somehow special? That while others fail, you'll succeed? Steele tells me no, even though she's also majoring in English Literature, but surely I'm not the only one…. That's why I wanted to interview Christian Grey, the 27 year old billionaire, because I'm sure no one expected him to rise to the top and build a national company in his twenties.

Ana is bundled on a couch reading Pride and Prejudice… again.

"Have a safe trip" she croaks… she's pale and sickly, but it's endearing in a certain fragile way. She may be sickly with her nose red and runny, but she's my Ana. She looks so cute with her hair out of her face, although I happen to like her straight chocolate brown hair. I don't understand why she envies my strawberry-blonde curls, I'd much rather have straight chestnut hair; it'd be more manageable that way and I wouldn't have to deal with dumb-blonde jokes. She's a real looker, if only she knew… and if only she was more interested in guys… I've gotta go.

"Yes, I will. Thank you Ana… you should go back to bed and get some rest. Do you want some Acetaminophen or Doxylamine… or perhaps some Dextromethorphan, you have such a strong cough."

"Um… excuse me?" she rasps.

"oh, um Tylonel or Nyquil" Note to self: this is what premed does to you.

"Nyquil would be nice" I can tell that it hurts for her to speak so I decide to hastily take my leave.

"Ana, go back to bed… there's some left over soup from last night and some Campbell chicken canned soup in the pantry" I say fondly… Anastasia Steele truly is a like a decked out Russian princess; what with her flowing waist long dark lustrous hair and her forest-green emerald eyes and her almost glowing pale skin. I have confidence in my looks as well, but even I know that she's the prettier one of us, although her beauty has engrossed unwelcome attention like my ample bosom.

"Have a good time…" she coughs and regains her breath "… I hope your interview goes well"

"Me too, bye."

Then I take my laptop and iphone with me and go on my long car ride to the headquarters of Mr. Grey's global enterprise in Portland, Vancouver, WA. It's a huge building, with twenty stories of curved steel and glass, an architect's Magnus opus. There's small script right over the glass revolving doors that illustrate "Grey House"; it's as discreet as the owner himself. I'm early by 15 minutes; not bad for cultishly following the speed limit. As I walk into the glassy, steel white sandstone lobby, I meet a blonde receptionist behind the sturdy sandstone desk. She's wearing a well put together outfit comprised of a neat charcoal jacket with a white shirt. She's exceptionally clean and tidy, even if she's the first one to greet people and leave a first impression.

"Um…err" wow, this place is grand, "Hello, I'm Katherine Kavanagh. I'm here for an interview with Mr. Grey at 2?"

"Ah, yes, you're quite early aren't you? She arches her eyebrow at my unease, I swear…

"Yes… I am" I say, annoyed, but is there such a thing as being too early for a meeting? Especially when the person you're meeting has time that is literally worth a lot more than yours? Kate, get a hold of yourself, steel yourself like Ana would if she were here with you... I hope she recovers from her sickness quickly, I miss her.

"Well, excuse me for a moment" she smiles politely and checks her screen while I wonder if I'm dressed appropriately for the occasion. I'm wearing a suit but… maybe I should have opted for a longer, looser skirt than the stubby pencil one I have on at the moment.

"Miss Kavanagh is expected, may I see some form of identification?" she mispronounced my name; the g is silent.

"Ah, yes, here you go" I show her my driver's license, the picture was surprisingly better than I thought it would be with my track record.

"Okay, just sign in here and then you'll want to go to the last elevator on the right and go to the twentieth floor." She continues to politely smile, but somehow… it's a bit more pleasant now.

She gives me a Visitor security pass and I walk over to the elevators past the two lax security guards in black suits. I think to myself, Men in black? This guy is savvier than I thought.

The elevators lift me up with smooth speed to the top floor and I find myself in another large glass, steel white sandstone lobby. I was taken aback a bit as I had expected a hallway of some sorts. I once again encounter another blonde receptionist who is also dressed fashionably in a crisp black and white.

"Miss Kavanagh, could you please wait here?" the new blonde receptionist directs me to an area with white leather chairs and once again, my name is mispronounced. It used to irritate me as a child, but now it merely surprises me when someone gets it right… like Ana and her brother did… hm, I wonder how is she now…

Behind the opulent chairs is a spacious glass meeting room with a proportionally large hard, dark wood table enclosed within twenty identical chairs. On one wall is, from the floor to the ceiling, a window wall view of the Seattle skyline looking out towards the city; The view is stunning and I intake fresh air.

I sit down and get out my laptop and iphone. I am excited to meet the elusive Christian Grey as I've been researching him for the longest of time. I know everything one could possibly know about him without actually, well, knowing him. He's 27, hasn't ever been seen with a date and he doesn't give many interviews as he's a very private man. He invests in telecommunications, ship masonry, and agricultural production. I'm glad I was able to secure a private interview; I take delight in the intimacy of 1-on-1 discussions.

I take a deep breath and tell myself to steal myself like Ana Steele would have…. I love puns. They say a person's domain tells a lot about a person, but this place is rather sterile and clinical… yet beautifully elegant at the same time… I guess that kind of fits my image of Christian Grey.

Another blonde comes in from the door on the right… is everyone here blonde? I check my watch and it's time so I take a deep breath and stand up for myself… I really do love… whatever this is called because I majored in bioengineering and not English.

"Miss Kavanagh?" Blondie #3 asks, I think this to myself with affection. Everyone I've ever adored I've added a 'y' to: Horsey, doggy, bunny, kitty… all cute things have a y and this new assistant was just as cute as a button, though I don't particularly find buttons cute, but the idiom is endearing. However, she is a bit too old to be mispronouncing my name though.

"Yes, that's me" I clearly say with my regular assertiveness.

"Mr. Grey will see you shortly… may I take your jacket?"

"Oh, that would be nice," I smile as I take off my jacket leaving only a white blouse on… it's so hard to find an opaque white shirt these days, but it was worth it now that I'm here.

"Have you had any refreshments?"

"Oh, no, I haven't."

She frowns and looks at Blondie #2 at the desk.

'Would you prefer coffee, tea, or water"

"Cof-" I think asking for a gallon of sugar and milk additives would be a little too much. "Water will be fine… thanks"

"Olivia, be a dear and fetch a glass of water for Miss Kavanagh" she says this in a stern voice… Ouch, wouldn't want to be Olivia. Olivia quickly stands up for herself and scurries away to the other side of the foyer.

"My dearest apologies, she is a new intern," She looks at me like I would understand, which I happen to do. Those new employees we hired at the hardware store mess things up all the time too and they're not blonde.

"Her you go, Miss Kavanagh" Olivia gives me a glass of iced water.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you" I smile at her earnestly.

"You're welcome" she smiles kindly back.

Olivia then gracefully glides toward the desk and sits down, continuing their work diligently.

I wonder… does Mr. Grey ensure that all his employees have blonde hair? Does he make them dye their hair blonde if they happen to be brunette? Can he legally do that? But just as I was thinking that that couldn't be true, a suavely dressed black African-American man walks from the office and I'm glad I decided to wear a formal suit instead of a wintry dress with uggs because honestly, he looked kind of silly wearing shorts in this luxurious office no matter how fine he looked.

The man turns and says through the glass door, "Golf, this week, Grey."

I can't hear the reply, but the man turns and sees me and gives a crinkly smile. Olivia jumps up and calls the elevator; she needs to calm down lest she won't be alive by the end of this interview.

"Good afternoon… ladies" he says as he winks at us as he departs into the elevator.

"Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Kavanagh" says the blonde-whose-name-I-don't-know. How many misses can they make?

I gather up my stuff into my coach bag and leave the water glass half full in order to make my way towards to partly opened door… FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF- I trip; damn these high heels, I knew I should have worn flats.

Luckily, but more of the bad kind, I someone has caught me. Nice job at making a good first impression, I sarcastically think to myself; Look upright and tall and everything will be alright I thought to myself as I got dressed this morning, what the hell was I thinking, I can't wear heels, I'm a total klutz.… and then I find myself staring into the more gorgeous gray eyes I have ever seen… not that I've ever seen grey eyes before…. Damn, that bastard's hot.

"Miss Kavanagh, I've been expecting you," another miss; wish he missed me. He extends his long fingers toward me when I regain my posture… and pride. "I'm Christian Grey. Are you all right? Would you like to have a seat?"

I blink and look away, "I'm confident that even I wouldn't trip while sitting down," I sigh in indignation and I don't take his hand.

"I certainly hope so" his eyes full of laughter and amusement. I see a faint smile that quickly disappears in a blink of an eye. Oh my god, he's so gorgeous. He's tall and dressed in a matching grey suit with a white shirt and black tie. His dark, copper wisps of hair makes me wonder how my fingers would feel if I ran them through those lus- … but that's a thought for another time, right now he's shrewdly regarding me with those colorless eyes of his. What happened to the humor? I don't remember making drama my new best friend like that funny comic I read, oh...

"Um… could you let go of me? …I'm fine now" he had been holding me this whole time… it felt uneasy yet comfortable at the same time and when my fingers accidently touches his, I felt electricity run through my body. I was exhilarated yet exhausted at the same time; talk about ambivalence.

"Of course… as you wish" damn he's seductive, letting go of my beating heart in the process... traitor. I thought I had gotten over this hormonal teenage stage when I was like… still a teen? I thought to myself sardonically as my eyelids fluttered.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to sit, here?" He guided me towards a white toned L-shaped couch, comfy.

The office was a bit too large for my tastes, but I suppose when you're younger than most of your employees one has to accommodate by size… but I found it strange that everything was white, it makes me wonder whether or not I've died and gone to heaven, which wouldn't be quite the surprise as he's like an angel. There are carefully crafted paintings of mundane, unnoticeable objects on the wall by the door. The objects are painted so detailed that they look like photographs and as they come together they create a captivating canvas that catches one's eye and attention; The only thing that could possibly rival the person who resides in this room…

"Trouton, a local artist" say Christian when he notices my looks.

"They're breathtakingly creative; taking the ordinary to extraordinary, I might add" I sincerely smile at him and the paintings. He cocks his head and regards me intently.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss Kavanagh," he replies in a soft voice that causes me to become wary of myself and my surroundings. Wait, I can't let myself become self-conscious that isn't me; Think of Ana, how would Ana react? Calm and cool, unshakable as steel.

"You know," I nod my head in agreement "you're the first person this day who hasn't pronounced my last name wrong."

"Well, it wouldn't bode well for directing if I couldn't address the person I'm speaking to appropriately," there's no amusement I can discern in his firm speech.

"Yes, I suppose so… though I could do without all the misses." I smile wryly and his eyes shows hint of amusement; I'm doing well if I dare say so myself.

Without the assortment of objective paintings, the office is cold, clean and clinical… I can't imagine someone spending more than a few moments in this room, yet here he is, this Adonis-like-figure who spends the vast majority of time working his life away in this soulless place. He gracefully sits onto the leather chair opposite of me and I retrieve my laptop from my tote bag. I use my iphone to record the conversation for later reviews but I accidently drop it… twice. Thank god I didn't skimp out on the case or I would be crying in front of those unforgivable, dreary eyes of his. I finally manage to place the iphone on the table and begin recording. Mr. Grey says nothing while I do this and waits patiently upon me. I look up at him and see that he's watching me with a hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin, allowing him to trail his long index finger across his petal-like lips. I wonder if he's trying to suppress a smile, there's a part of me that tells me he would take delight in my new iphone's screen breaking... I can sense that he's going to be very difficult, if not impossible to grill for information.

"Sorry for taking so long… would you mind if I recorded your answers?"

"When you've already imperiled your precious phone with precipitous falls? You ask me this now?" he's amused and I'm incensed, I'm pretty sure my pale, white face shot up bright red.

"Hey, it's not funny if this thing breaks, I won't be able to review what we've just discussed for my article," I whimper... no, complain.

"Okay, okay, have it your way," he raised his hands as if in defeat, but I knew he was faking it, "let's get on with the interview. So what compelled you to interview me?" he hand went right back to stoke his pretty, **normal** mouth again.

"You're conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony so I need you to appear in the graduation issue of the university's student newspaper because … wait aren't _I_ supposed to be the one asking the questions?" I sound like the incompetent bad cop, emphasize the bad, without my good cop in this poor excuse for an interview.

"I just wanted to know for sure that you knew what this interview was for when you spent _so_ much time badgering my PR to get this interview" I see a shadow of grin.

"I know that you're a very private man and that your time is literally worth more than mine and that you have better things to do than get interviewed, but you'd think after nine months I'd be prepared for this," I quickly say… I hope I didn't sound too hostile like I heard myself talking.

"Nine months? I thought it was at least a few years." He's really teasing me now and I glower at him; he looks at me, suddenly seriously intent, "shouldn't we get the interview going on now?"

"Ah, yes" it takes all my self-control to restrain myself from insulting this arrogant egotistical jerk, "You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I look him straight in the eye and see that though he may be still smiling, the smile's rueful and he looks vaguely disappointed. Well excuse _me_ for asking such a _must-know_ question.

"Business is all about people, Kavanagh, and I'm _very_ good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He takes a moment's pause to fix me with his grey stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself mater, to know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is it's always goes down to good people."

"Are you sure it's not just luck?"... wait, did I just say that out loud? I did not just say that out loud. I worked way too hard to get this interview and I'm not about to just blow it off due to Christian the unbearable.

His dull eyes flare in surprise momentarily to say, " I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Kavanagh. The harder I work, the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said 'the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership"

"And what exactly is it about you that compel perfectly good people to work for you and follow your lead?" I quickly moved on from my blunder, as I do with all the mistakes I've made in life and "get going on" with the interview as Christian would put it.

"I said I worked hard, didn't I?"

"I suppose recognizing talent is essential for a business to flourish, but..." thank god I stopped myself from saying something stupid again, I don't think I'd be able to survive another blow to his inflated ego, as all control freaks have in order to, well, have the nerve to control other **human** beings..

"What?" his eerie, evil eye eyes me suspiciously and I love alliterations... it's always good to be a little random, keeps me sharp and I wasn't about to fall into his trap.

"Well, um, don't you think that you're going a tiny bit too far" and that maybe, just maybe you're a bit of a control freak? After all, he _did_ make me wait 9 whole months to get the time of day with him, I might as well have some fun and confront him for what he truly is.

"No, I exercise control in all things as I should, Kavanagh" without a trace of humor in his voice or eerie smile. My conviction falters as he holds my gaze with those magnetizing ancient eyes of his… damnit, why does he have to be so hot and young? And why the hell does he keep stroking his elongated index finger against his lower lip? I want him to stop doing that… but not really. AURGH Get. A. Hold. Of. Yourself. Kate, you are **NOT **a naive, self-conscious teenager, for god's sake you're graduating from college this year, I remind myself as I mentally shake my my mind from this screw... mind-screw.

"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues in that soft, husky voice of his… and yet, this is what I wanted; a kindred soul who has the same ideas and aspirations as me… minus the controlling part; I should have known to be careful of what I wished for as I sigh to myself. I was in for an unpleasant surprise and now I know it, a little too late though.

"Do you think you're immensely powerful?" I ask, disinterested... He's a control freak if I've ever known one… and I kind of have, I contemplate, completely dejected.

"I employ over forty thousand people, Kavanagh. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility- power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so."

My jaw slacks and drops to the floor; I taken about by his lack of humanity, let alone humility.

"That's… that's… terrible, don't you have to answer to anyone?" I ask, shocked. I've never been the one to let cruelty and plain indifference past my radar; screw this interview, I didn't sign up to be complacent to a _sadist_.

"I own my own company, so no, I don't" he smiles smugly in content. Damn, give a control freak some power and his ego inflates... I need to change tactics if I'm going to get anywhere.

"So… do you have any interests outside your work?" Do you have a life other than pawning people off?

"I have varied interests, Kavanagh." I swore I saw a ghost of smile touch his full lips, "_Very_ varied." That made my heart skip a beat; for some reason I had felt like I had seen a wicked thought alight his eyes as he observed me intently and enraptured me in his trappings. All I could think to myself was, crap.

"But if you work your life away…" I'm slightly concerned since it appears that as a workaholic, he can't be very healthy if his mental health is anything to go by, but enough of that, "don't you do anything for relaxation?"

"Relaxation" the word rolls off of his tongue and his smile reveals perfectly aligned white teeth. No one should be naturally that perfect in terms of looks other than fictional video game characters and graphic novels; he really is beautiful, despite his ugly personality.

"Well to relax: I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits" I can't help but allow a giggle to escape and he blinks his eyes seductively in response and shifts his posture. "I'm a very wealthy man as you know, Kavanagh, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies" Ah, the conspicuous spending of the opulent .1%, fascinating. I turn my head to avoid his blazing gaze.

"You invest in manufacturing. Why?" Why do you make me feel like a goldfish out of water? May i not feel comfortable in my own skin, or will you not permit it? Wait, what the _hell_ is going on? Steel yourself Kate, just because you have a crappy last name that does not mean you can't be like Ana, cool as ice and poise as snow, in my feeble attempt to snap out of my inner teenager.

"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?" that seems align with control, how consistent.

"Personally, I would rather just take a bomb and blow the whole thing up" I admit with mirth, "I'm far too impatient to learn how to take things apart. Imagination and destruction is my thing…" I blink to break his smothering gaze; it's hard to maintain eye contact with him for too long "though quite frankly, it seems you're following your heart instead of where the money trail leads," I refreshingly remark.

His mouth quirks up and appraisingly stares at me.

"Perhaps, but there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."

"Why would they say such a thing?" I mean sure, he may be a bastard, but to say that someone doesn't have a heart… I'm visibly distressed.

"Because they know me well," His lips curl into a wry smile.

"I don't think they know the real you…" I positively argue, "would you friends say that you're easy to get to know?" He blinks in surprise at me and looks at me carefully… is it to see whether I'm sincere or not... or did I ask something I shouldn't have?

"I'm a very private person, Kavanagh. I go a long way to protect my privacy, although your sentiment is… refreshing, I don't often give interviews" and he trails off.

"It was a pleasure to talk with you… I'm still surprised you agreed to this one." I smile eagerly in reply; I wanted to know him better, somehow I felt a kindred soul with this controller. Life is weird that way.

"Was?" he devilishly remarks, causing me to blush, "well, I am the benefactor of the university, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get you off me. You badgered and badgered my PR people and they came running back, full of complaints for me; I admire your tenacity."

"Thank you," I always smile when I get a compliment… though I remember the saying goes as getting off your back… a lover of puns as well? "You invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?" I ask diligently.

"We can't eat money, Kavanagh, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."

"And with the digitization of currency, we can't even hold money in our hands anymore, let alone eat it, but that's…that's very philanthropic," I'm slightly shocked at his generosity.

He raises his eyebrows signaling that he knows that I thought of him to not be the giving person.

"Are you passionate about this? Feeding the world's poor is a noble cause."

He shrugs, very noncommittal.

"It's a shrewd business," he murmurs. So he _does_ have some humility after all, but the poor often don't have money to buy food and that's the main problem, not underproduction though there is significant overpopulation which more food won't help. And I don't see how he can profit out of this unless…

"Ah, profiting off the miseries of the less fortunate, the tradition of the rich." He looks at me weirdly, "Do you happen to have a philosophy? If so, what is it?" stupid, he already answered that question when he told you he was a control freak.

"As it so happens, I don't have any philosophy, but maybe a guiding principle- Carnegie's: "A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular driven. I like control- of myself and those around me."

"What, no women?" I incredulously ask as a feminist.

"Oh, there's women to control, for sure." He reveals his devilish grin as if I don't get the inside joke and I wish I didn't, damn it... I should have been more careful of what I had to say.

"So you have realized you wish to possess things" and people, but have you realized that you are a control freak and that you can get help for that? Preferably from a trained professional and not me?

"I do desire to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer," but user would probably be more fitting.

"I am" and although he smiles it doesn't show in his eyes. Though as someone who's at odds with feeding the world, I think he's talking about something else. He's dark and mysterious, yet captivating; I swallow hard and I swear that the room seems to be a few degrees hotter than when I first arrived. Kate, stop, you're not even wearing your jacket anymore, only a loose, thin white blouse... which you made sure wouldn't be transparent on any occasion.

"Can I ask a personal question?" I timidly ask.

"Go ahead" he says, half-awake and conscious.

"You were adopted… How has that shaped the way you are?" I hope I didn't offend him and then his brow furrows, damn, mission failed.

"I have no way of knowing."

"What do you mean?" Did it affect you or not? Yes or no?

He doesn't reply... I guess I was a little bit too prying, but... I gots ta know! just like Ted had to, so I tried to help him out.

"Well, how old were you when you were adopted?"

"You could look that up on the public record, Kavanagh, assuming you did your research." His tone is stern and unrelenting.

"I… I was just trying to help you answer my question, but it seems you don't want to and that's fine; just tell me," crap, that came out wrong, but moving on..." I'm reasonable. It's fine if there are things you don't want to share, you're a very private man; I get it. So you've had to sacrifice your family for your work."

"That's not a question," his voice is quipped and terse.

"Sorry" I feel uneasy… this was not what I had meant at all. "So um, have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?"

"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that." It was good to hear that his family loves him, but does he love them back? I wonder, is he even capable of love? Wait, now I'm just like his so-called friends who told him to his face that he doesn't have a heart, Kate, you're better than that... but am I? I sigh, but nevertheless there's one more thing that I gots ta know!

"Are you gay, Mr. Grey?

He inhales sharply, causing me to cringe… I'm mortified, I didn't know that question would upset him that much… I mean, being homosexual isn't as stigmatized as it was a few years ago what with the abolishment of the "don't ask don't tell" policy at all…but I had to ask, I just had to!

"No, Katherine, I'm not." He raises his eyebrows and his aged eyes contain a cool gleam; I can tell he is not pleased.

"I'm sorry… it's just that you never have a date in the society pages… and hey, it rhymes ah, eh?" I flush at my pathetic attempt to appeal to his humor... that's the first time he's said my name this whole time. As he sighs and looks away, my heart accelerates.

"So you have done your research, more than most it seems…" he comments, disinterested, but suddenly he focuses, "if you're really sorry..." oh god, he's wondering what he can get from me, he is a control freak after all "... then tell me the truth" what truth? But his grey eyes appraise me, "why did you really want to meet me so badly?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice. In that instant I felt all the blood drain from my head … how could he have known… Wait, what are my true intentions? Luckily I regained my cognition just in time to make a timely excuse.

"For the school newspaper of course, didn't I tell you already?" I try to give my most convincing innocent puzzled face to those unconvinced eyes.

"No sane person would stalk a person persistently for 9 whole months for a petty school newspaper…" he grabbed my hand and clamped down on it… I couldn't escape. " So tell me why" his eyes burned into mine, trying to compel me to speak the truth…

"Maybe I'm not sane," he rubs his lips in quiet deliberation "…maybe I wanted to take all the perks I could get from my disastrous ex relationship," I say as convincingly as I can.

"And when did you break up with your ex?" He cocks his head to the side once again and I can feel those unforgiving grey eyes staring at me.

"…Last week," reason why instead of going out in the cold and getting the flu like Ana did, I stayed home crying my heart out in my comfortable pink bunny pajamas. I could feel my left eye twitching habitually.

"Are you… twitching?" his voice shocked and concerned.

"Oh, it's just a habit I made so that when I have children it is a fair warning to inform them that I'm mad so that instead of taking the conventional path of screaming and thereby soaring my throat and scaring their sensitive ears, they are quietly informed that I'm pissed off since I doubt I'll be able to speak dead to them like you do to me," whoa that's a mouthful.

There's a knock on the door and blonde-whose-name-I-don't-know enters.

"Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."

"We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting."

Andrea hesitates as she gaps at him; she appears lost. He turns slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows causing her to flush bright pink; I knew it wasn't just me who _was_, emphasize was, susceptible to his devilish charms.

"Very well, Mr. Grey" she trails off as she exists. He frowns and turns his attentions back to me.

"Where were we, Miss Kavanagh?

Ah, I guess I did deserve to be missed.

"Oh, really, please don't let me keep you from anything you have to do," really, get away from me now; I can't bear to be near you and your reality distortion field for a second more... being near you is... **changing** me, as my inner teen exhibits.

"I want to know about you… It's only fair," he says with puppy dog eyes; Oh joy, I somehow managed to pique his curiosity when I happen to be the dullest person I know. What's going on? Oh god, he's steeping his fingers in front of his very distracting mouth… I gulp.

"There isn't anything you need to know about me," I nervously tell him. Honestly there's nothing there other than what you see here… I'm an open book, really.

"What are your plans after graduation?" Well, at least he's not asking me why I wanted to meet with him anymore, that's better than nothing.

I shrug, thrown off by his interest. I just wanted to go see Seattle, live there for a little, be with Ana and maybe become more independent. Sure, I was pre-med but other than living day by day and studying for finals, I didn't think about the future much. It just… didn't matter to me as much as the present and well with Elliot having a girlfriend... I just didn't care about life that much anymore.

"No plans, just exams." It's a good thing I immersed myself in my studies after the breakup, I had a feeling Mr. grey wasn't going to let me go anytime soon, and hey, that rhymed. Rhymes always cheer me up, always.

"We run an excellent internship program here," he says quietly.

"…Well… I'll keep that in mind" I manage to mutter out, "but I don't think I'd fit in here."

"Why do you think that?" Why does he cock his head in order to look at me? Do I look better sideways? I think I do, since a hint of a smile is playing on his perfect lips.

"Well, just because I also happen to be blond doesn't mean I'm just another clone you can push around and sell out," I snark sarcastically as I have nothing left to lose since I got everything I needed except for my outrageous pride and poor sense of humor.

"What does you being blonde have to do anything?" he murmurs. Though I set up a joke, all the humor is gone and all that is left is his intense grey gaze. I somehow tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and look at my knotted fingers. The hell? My mind is blank and we're getting off topic… I guess that's all I wanted to know…

"I have to go now" and I retrieve my iphone.

"Wait… would you like me to show you around?"

"That really isn't necessary" really, it isn't, I need to get away, now"...and aren't you busy?" that's a legitimate reason, right? I don't really know whether I should say yes or no. I mean this would be great for the article, but for me? That's something else.

"I just cancelled my meeting for you, I'm free and I want to," he looks at me intently with those gorgeous enchanting grey eyes of his.

"Well… if you really want to… I guess I could stay a little longer, but I have a long drive back."

"You're driving back to WSU in Vancouver?" he sounds surprised and even anxious. He glances at the window and my gaze follows; It's begun to rain. "Don't go until the rain stops, ok?"

"Ok" I heard myself saying obediently. Sure, I may call myself a sheeple, but I'm not really a sheep though I have the strange suspicious that Grey is a big bad wolf out to consume me whole… and he whisked me away to tour his complex.


End file.
